


Inception/Batfamily fic, Snowbird. Arthur/Eames

by Pennyplainknits



Series: Bats and Dreamers [2]
Category: DCU - Comicverse, Inception (2010)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-13
Updated: 2010-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennyplainknits/pseuds/Pennyplainknits





	Inception/Batfamily fic, Snowbird. Arthur/Eames

  
Eames was far, far too cold to enjoy the fact that this was a set up straight out of gay porn. Canadian Mounted, perhaps, or The Musical Ride. Three men, a snowstorm, and limited ways of keeping warm. Perfect, right?

Except that the two other men clearly weren't in the mood to start ripping each other's clothes off, or at least, not in a sexy way.

Arthur, who somehow managed to look immaculate even in a heavy, fur lined parka and mittens, kicked the door shut behind him and dumped a load of logs on the floor in front of the fire.

"It's still snowing out there," he said, "Total white out. We're not going anywhere for a while, so we might as well get comfy.

"Snow's enough to get Church off our backs, anyway."

It was the first thing Tim had said since Eames had bundled him into the shack with Arthur at his heels as the storm closed around them. The last thing he or Arthur had expected to see on the recon trip to the Yukon was Tim Drake, far away from his usual stomping ground, and without Dick to sweeten the deal. Seemed the whole mutual Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy didn't extend to Tim minding his own business.

"And he wouldn't have been on our backs if you had kept out of my business!" Arthur snapped, irritably. "You just couldn't help yourself, could you Tim?"

"Forgive me for wanting to look out for my family," Tim spat back. "If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead by now!"

"No, if it wasn't for YOU, we'd have our evidence and Eames wouldn't be rapidly turning BLUE," Arthur said. "You just tipped them off!"

"Don't treat me like an amateur! I work with the best in the business, just like you do!" Tim said. Despite the cold, his cheeks were red, two hot spots of anger on high cheekbones, just like Arthur got when you pushed him too hard. The resemblance really was remarkable. He just wished he was warm enough to appreciate it. He'd lost one glove in the rush to the cabin and his fingers were hurting with the cold.

"I know what this is about," Eames said, remembering. "Dick, right?"

"Yes!" Arthur said at the same time as Tim said

"No!" unconvincingly.

"Tim, Arthur said, "I keep telling you, it was a diversion. And it was years ago."

"You can create a diversion without sticking your tongue down someone's throat," Tim said. He wrapped his coat more tightly around him and went back to staring out of the window.

"Oh, this I have GOT to hear," Eames said. "The mental images alone will keep me warm."

"Not the time Eames," Arthur said, and went back to making up the fire.

Eames tucked his hands under his armpits to try and warm them up, and blessed his vivid imagination.

***

Arthur laid the fire in the grate, but it took him three attempts, even with Eames's Ronson lighter, to get the slightly damp tinder to catch.

"Still clear," Tim said. He hadn't moved from the window in 30 minutes. Eames hunched his shoulders under the thin blanket and tried to convince himself he was warm. It wasn't working.

"No one is going to be out in this, Tim. Eames, come sit closer to the fire," Arthur said, voice unusually kind. "I can't believe how cold you are."

"Just not used to it," Eames said, and he couldn't stop his teeth chattering. Arthur pulled the rickety chair closer to the fire and Eames shuffled across the room and sank down into it.

"Here," Arthur said, and tugged his own mittens off and handed them over. "Put these on."

"Then you'll be cold," Eames said, cursing his gentlemanly streak.

"Just til you warm up," Arthur insisted.

The mittens were fur lined. Posh bastard, Eames thought, fondly. They were warm from Arthur's hands, and Eames put them on, gratefully. He'd been shoved flat into a snowbank by Tim, the bullet whistling over head, and his coat was soaked through,hung up to dry on a nail in the corner of the cabin. The blanket wasn't really cutting it, as far as keeping him warm went. He couldn't remember being this cold in the waking world.

The fire crackled, and Eames felt his eyes closing, drifting off to sleep, even though he wasn't tired.

He was roughly wakened by Arthur shaking him, hard.

"Eames. EAMES!" Arthur shouted.

"Not so loud Arthur," Eames mumbled. His mind felt foggy. Of course, he thought hypothermia.

"Come on," Arthur said, "Over here."

Eames forced his eyes open and saw the two cots had been pushed together in front of the fire and heaped up with blankets.

"Get in," Arthur said, "before you actually freeze. Your lips are blue."

Arthur drew back the blankets and Eames dived for the warmth of the bed. He knew it was coming- standard operating procedure- but is was still a little thrill to feel Arthur climb in behind him, a wonderful line of warmth at his back.

"If this was all it took to get you into bed I'd have fallen into a snowbank ages ago," Eames said.

"Not the time Eames," Arthur said, but Eames could feel the brush of his lips against the back of his neck, so he counted it a win.

"Tim, get over here," Arthur said, in a voice that brooked no argument. Arthur being competent was always a terrible turn on, but Eames could barely feel his fingers. Even with Arthur's arms snaked round him, holding him tight against his chest, he was far too cold and drowsy to appreciate it.

"I'm keeping a look out." Tim said, without turning round.

"You said yourself no one is out there in that storm," Arthur said, still calm. "Now get over here and help warm Eames up, since it's your fault he's cold in the first place."

"Arthur," Tim began.

"Now," Arthur said.

"I do so love it when you're masterful, darling." Eames said drowsily.

Arthur laughed, and Eames felt a puff of warm air against his neck. "Like I said Eames, not the time."

Tim stomped across the room and sat on the chair to unlace his boots before sliding into bed in front of Eames with bad grace.

"Now, isn't this cosy?" Eames said, when Arthur had pulled the blankets up the their ears.

"Not the first word that comes to mind," Tim said sourly. He seemed to be trying to avoid actually touching Eames while still being close enough to share the warmth.

"So, now that we all have nothing to do but wait out the storm," Eames said, hooking his chin onto Tim's shoulder "How about you tell me the problem with you and Arthur here?"

"No problem," Tim said stiffly, and whoever told the kid he could lie well was sorely mistaken.

"See," Eames continued, "I think its because you're too alike. Of course, no one comes close to my Arthur-"

"Not your Arthur," Arthur said.

Eames twisted his head to look Arthur in the eye

"Not from lack of trying," he said and winked. Arthur just sighed.

"Is he always like this?" Tim asked to the room at large. "He's worse than Dick."

"Dick," Eames said, sleepy. "Now there is the root of it, isn't it?"

"Don't go to sleep," Arthur said, and pinched his bicep sharply.

"Ow!" Eames jerked his arm and punched Tim, who turned round and gave him a death glare.

"Keep me awake then," Eames said "I can think of several ways, if you need-"

"Eames," Arthur said, "I may be resisting hurting you, but I assure you that Tim has a short temper and can be quite inventive."

"Just trying to get to the bottom of the story." Eames tucked his head back down into the blankets. His nose was getting cold and he stuck it into the crook of Arthur's neck to warm it up. He smelled of snow still. Arthur didn't pull away; Eames took it as a good sign, as the other alternative was that he really was dying of hypothermia and Arthur was giving him his last wish. On the other side of him Tim shifted around and then rolled out of the bed.

"Hey!" Arthur said "Tim, get back here- he's still cold."

"I was getting these," Tim said, and tossed two gel handwarmers onto the bed. "Don't hold them Eames, tuck them under your arms."

"Much as I appreciate your advice," Eames said "I'm not actually an amateur. I know what to do." He snaked his hand out of the blankets and grabbed the packs, popping the buttons and waiting for them to warm. Arthur's arms went round him again, and Tim shifted back, lending his warmth even as he said

"Nearly getting shot is fairly amateurish."

"Tim," Arthur said "stop it."

Tim huffed.

"Defending my honour Arthur? I'm touched," Eames mumbled.

"Someone has to," Arthur said, but he sounded amused, rather than anything else.

"Didn't know you cared," Eames said.

"I protest being made to listen to this," Tim complained. "At least Dick has style."

"I ooze style darling," Eames smiled against Arthur's skin. "And that's the second time you've mentioned Dick. Clearly you want to talk about him. It's all very touching. Does he know?" Arthur chuckled quietly and Eames felt it reverberate through his cheek.

"There is nothing to know," Tim said, and for the first time that day he sounded close to losing his cool.

"You should tell him," Arthur said, "Even if he doesn't feel the same way or want the same thing, he'll still be kind."

"Sounds like the voice of experience," Eames said.

"Well, as Tim said," Arthur said mischievously, "distractions don't really need tongue."

Eames groaned.

"You can't go giving me mental images like that when I'm in no state to do anything, love."

"Hey," Arthur said, "Just trying to keep you...up."

Eames could hear the smirk, and he risked a small kiss to the exposed skin of Arthur's throat. Arthur let him.

"Do anything else and I don't care what Arthur says, or how cold you are, I am getting out of this bed, I am getting my stun gun, and I am tasering you," Tim snapped.

"Later," Arthur said, and Eames felt his arms tighten around him

"That a promise?" Eames asked.

"I'm getting out of bed," Tim said. Arthur unclasped one hand from around Eames' waist and tugged the back of Tim's sweater, holding him still. Tim slumped back against Eames with a complaining noise.

"Fine then," Tim said "I'm calling Bruce." He wriggled around a bit until he could pull his phone out of his pocket and swiped his finger across the screen.

"Come pick us up," Tim said into the phone, "I'll send co ordinates. No injuries. Low level hypothermia, but he's warming up now. Don't bring Dick."

"You couldn't have done that before?" Arthur said.

"The storm was messing with the reception." Tim replied. "While you were _flirting_ I was keeping an eye on the weather. He's bringing reinforcements now that the snow has stopped. Think you can keep your hands to yourselves for three hours?"

"I've managed it for most of the past seven years," Eames said. "Of course I can't speak for Arthur, now he's finally succumbing to my wiles."

Arthur snorted, but didn't say anything. Tim frowned, and looked so like Arthur, annoyed Arthur, down to the crease between his brows, that Eames felt a measure of affection for him, and decided to shut up in favour of snuggling more firmly back against Arthur. Arthur rested his cheek against his, and Eames was content.

In the end it took more like four hours for the reinforcements to arrive. Eames was jolted out of a half-sleep by the sound of not one but two helicopters landing. The door to the cabin swung back on its hinges, and Bruce Wayne himself strode through in a swirl of snow, followed by an elderly man Eames vaguely recognised from Arthur's notes for the aborted WayneTech job, and-

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he said, sitting up and dislodging Arthur's grip.

"Why do I think you'll have a suspiciously plausible explanation for all this?" Dick grinned, sweeping the snowflakes out of his black hair.

Tim kicked him as he got out of bed, and Eames knew it was no accident. He'd have a bruise.

"Dick," Arthur said "It's good to see you."

"You too," Dick said, "Are you all warm enough- here, wrap up." He and the other man- Alfred- Eames suddenly remembered- began pulling blankets out of their bags. Arthur slid of of bed to grab one, but Dick just draped it round his shoulders, tucking it round him tight.

"You too Mr Eames," Alfred said, "Wrap up warm now. There's soup in the helicopter."

It took quite an effort to leave the cosy bed, but Alfred looked and sounded so much like his grandfather that some part of his brain automatically obeyed.

"Try not to fall in any more snowbanks," Alfred said, giving him the blanket.

"I was pushed," he said absently and bent to pull his boots back on. The laces were still damp and it was a struggle to tie them. In the corner Tim was having an intense, quiet conversation with Wayne. Alfred went to drape him in a blanket too while Dick picked up the few scattered belongings

"Ready to go?" Arthur asked, clutching the blanket. "Dick says there's some of Alfred's soup in the helo."

"I was ready four hours ago," Eames said, but before they could make it to the door Wayne cut them off.

"Arthur," he said, voice deeper than Eames would have expected, somehow.

"Bruce," Arthur said. "Thank you for the rescue. Although, if it wasn't for Tim we wouldn't-"

"Spare me the excuses," Wayne snapped. "I can't believe you are still wasting your talents in this line of work."

"Not this again," Arthur said, and tried to step round round him.

"I'm going to make the same offer I made two years ago," Wayne said.

"And the answer is the same," Arthur said, evenly. He pulled the blanket more firmly round his shoulders and still managed to look intimidating.

"Think about it. Someone of your skills is wasted being a common thief." Wayne was trying for urbane, reasonable, but Eames could see the threat under it, the very slight tightening of the skin around his eyes, the way he leaned forward slightly into Arthur's personal space. The way he looked at him like a shark, like he wanted to eat him, and not in the same way Eames did.

"Hey," he said, smiling "You heard him. Answer's no." He tried to put himself in between Arthur and Wayne, but he was still sluggish from the cold and Arthur easily side-stepped him, and placed a gloved palm on his chest to hold him back.

"Arthur doesn't need you to speak for him, Mr Eames. Consider yourself fortunate I'm not taking you back in handcuffs."

"Under what jurisdiction?" Eames asked easily "I can promise you I've done nothing illegal anywhere you could touch me. Which is, oh, everywhere, seeing as how I'm not seeing a cop here, just another rich boy used to getting what he wants."

"Eames," Arthur hissed, "this is really not a good idea."

  
"Set one foot in Gotham, and I'll know about it," Wayne said, "I don't tolerate criminals in my city, You'll never see the outside of prison again." He took another step forward, and Eames tilted his head up to look him in the eye.

"Enough." Arthur said, in a voice like steel. It was almost ridiculously erotic, but for once, Eames suppressed the need to remark on it.

"Enough," Arthur repeated. "Even you sleep sometimes Bruce. Even you have nightmares. You know what I can do. Don't make me."

Eames had only heard Arthur sound like that once before, and it had involved a particularly vicious hostage situation back in London. He had the strongest suspicion that he was missing something that made Arthur pull out the big guns.

Wayne leaned forward until he was nose to nose with Arthur, and Arthur just stared back, unblinking.

Eames rubbed Arthur's shoulders through the blanket and glared at Wayne too.

Eventually Wayne pulled back.

"The helicopter will take you to Winnipeg Airport. There's a flight for two to London in your names. I suggest you get on it."

"Say hello to Babs for me," Arthur said, and leaned back minutely into Eames, tension flowing out of him. "Oh, and Bruce? I suggest you talk to Tim about letting his emotions get in the way of the job. We were lucky this time."

Wayne narrowed his eyes but said nothing, just nodded and stomped out of the shack, trailing Alfred behind him.

"You're stupid not to take him up on it," Tim said, pausing on his way out of the door.

"So you keep telling me," Arthur said.

The short run to the helicopter was almost more cold than Eames could cope with, and as soon as he sat down Arthur was shaking out extra blankets.

"You're cold too," he shouted over the whirr of the blades as the helicopter took off.

"I know," Arthur said "Which is why you're going to share." And he tucked himself against Eames and pulled the blankets round them both.

"So, what was that argument all about?" Eames said, worming his hand round Arthur's waist and up under his shirt to warm it against his skin. Arthur glared at him but he left his hand where it was, flat against Arthur's hip.

"Every time he sees me, Bruce offers me a job. One I have no interest in taking," Arthur said. He leaned against Eames, hair tickling his cheek.

"Let me guess, it is the same kind of job that gets Dick shot and stabbed in the same leg, and that means Tim knows way more about surveillance and unarmed combat than a kid barely out of his teens should?" Eames said.

"And involves spandex," Arthur agreed, "which as a work wardrobe leaves something to be desired."

"I don't know," Eames said, "I for one would _love_ to see you in spandex."

"Don't push it Eames," Arthur said.

"Oh, that voice doesn't work for me any more," Eames said "You _snuggled_ with me. I know you can't resist me."

"Standard operating procedure for hypothermia, as well you know," Arthur pointed out.

"Except here you are, still snuggling," Eames flexed his hand on Arthur's hip to prove his point. "Which leads me to conclude that _you like me_."

"Be quiet, Eames," Arthur ordered, but he tilted his head up to smile, and Eames leaned down.

Arthur's lips were cold, but they soon warmed up.


End file.
